Jeaniene Frost - Halfway to the Grave

His voice was harsh, but it penetrated through the paralyzed part of my mind, which went blank upon the sight of all that blood. The early shades of dusk darkened the sky. Pale amber beams of remaining light illuminated the sightless eyes of my grandfather sprawled on the kitchen floor. His throat had been torn out. It was his blood I’d slipped in.

Shaking Bones off, I unsheathed my knives and gripped them, ready to fling them at any undead thing that moved. There was a trail of blood leading up the steps, and crimson handprints left grisly signs for us to follow. Bones took a deep whiff of the air and pushed me back against the landing.

“Listen to me. I only smell them faintly, so I think Hennessey and whoever was with him aren’t close. But you keep those knives ready, and you unleash them at anything that flinches. Stay here.”

“No.” I spoke through clenched teeth. “I’m going up there.”

“Kitten, don’t. Let me go instead. You keep watch.”

Pity creased his face, but I ignored it. My grief I forced into a tiny hard lump inside me that I would unravel later. Much later, when every vampire or person with them who had done this was dead.

“Get out of my way.”

My tone had never been more menacing and he stepped back but followed closely behind me. The door to my bedroom was kicked in. It hung by only a hinge. My grandmother was face down on the floor, her hands frozen into claws as if in death she still tried to escape what had chased her. There were two wounds on her neck, one shallow, one gaping. It looked as though she’d dragged herself while dying, up the steps to get to my room. Bones knelt beside her and did a strange thing. He inhaled near the gouges around her neck, and then picked up a bloody pillow from my bed and held it to his face.

“What are you doing?” God, he wasn’t hungry, was he? The thought sent a vile tremor through me.

“I can smell them. There were four of them, including Hennessey. I smell your mum on this pillow. They took her. And there’s not enough of her blood here for her to be dead.”

Relief and fear caused me to nearly sag on my feet. She was still alive, at least possibly. Bones nosed around the room like a deadly blond canine, following the scent back down the stairs. I heard him back in the kitchen and knew he was giving Grandpa Joe a similar sniffing. It was too awful to contemplate. Gently I turned my grandmother over and her open eyes seemed to stare accusingly at me. This is all your fault! they silently railed. Choking back a sob, I closed them, and sent a prayer upward that she was at peace, because I never would be.

“Get down here, Kitten. Someone’s coming.”

Abruptly I darted back down the stairs, avoiding the slick blood that lined them. Bones had something crumpled in his hand and he propelled me out the front door as he shoved it inside his belt. A car screeched down the road about a mile away and I grabbed two extra knives until each hand held four.

“Is it them?” I hoped it was. There was nothing more I wanted than to tear into the animals who had done this.

Bones stood next to me with legs apart and narrowed his eyes.

“No, they’re human. I can hear their heartbeats. Let’s go.”

“Wait!” I looked around despairingly, my clothes and hands streaked with my family’s blood. “How will we find out where they’ve taken my mother? We’re not leaving until we do find out, I don’t care who’s coming!”

He jumped onto the bike and spun it around, waving me over with a jerk of his head.

“They left a note. It was in your grandfather’s shirt, I have it. Come on, Kitten, they’re here.”

Indeed they were. The car slammed on its breaks about a hundred feet away and out came Detective Mansfield and Detective Black with their guns drawn.

“Hold it right there! Don’t you fucking move!”

Bones leapt off the motorcycle and stood in front of me before I could blink. He was shielding me from the bullets that could only injure him for a short time but would do far worse damage to me.

“Get on the bike, Kitten,” he murmured too low for them to hear. “I’ll get on behind you. We have to go. They would have called for backup.”

“Hands in the air! Drop your weapons!” Mansfield approached with slow steps. Obligingly Bones stretched out his hands in compliance. He was buying time.

Something cold settled in me and spread, overriding the grief and the pain. Bones expected just to take two full clips in the back while we rode off. Or let them try to handcuff him and then slam them. Well, I had other ideas.

Both detectives advanced on him, seeing Bones as the primary threat. They foolishly ignored the old adage to never underestimate the power of a woman.

I stepped out from behind Bones with my hands in the air, palms facing me. When Mansfield took another step forward I flung the first knife. It skewered him straight through the wrist and his gun fell to the ground. Before Black could react I let loose the other knife, and he, too, collapsed screaming to the dirt, clutching his bleeding forearm. It made the next two knives easier to find their marks, and in a blink both of their hands were paralyzed with silver blades protruding from each wrist.

Bones arched a brow at me but said nothing, and climbed behind me on the bike as we sped off.

Their shouts behind us faded with the distance.

W E DROVE OVER UNPAVED ROADS AND through the trees to avoid being seen. In the distance, I occasionally heard sirens. Even though I was in front, Bones controlled the bike. He maneuvered it around trees at speeds that normally would have made me throw up from fright. Now I wanted him to go faster.

When we approached the highway, he stopped. It was dark now, shadows swallowing up the light. Bones laid the bike down on its side and covered it with a few branches he yanked off a nearby tree. The freeway was about a hundred yards away.

“Stay here. Won’t be a moment,” he promised cryptically.

Puzzled, I watched as he walked out toward the road. When he reached the shoulder he stopped. There was moderate traffic, it being after seven and most people already having arrived home from work. From where I stood I had a clear view of him, and his eyes began to glow that penetrating green.

A car approached and Bones fixed his glare on it. It swerved for a moment, and then began to slow. He stepped out into the middle of the road as the car headed straight toward him, and the light from his eyes blazed brighter. The car stopped only a foot shy of him, and he jerked his head toward the shoulder, where it obediently rolled.

Bones waited until it came to a full stop and then opened the driver’s door. A man in his forties sat with a dazed expression on his face. Bones pulled him out and walked him over to where I stood.

In an instant his mouth clamped onto the man’s neck, and the hapless stranger let out a small whimper. Bones released him after a few moments, wiping his sleeve across his lips.

“You’re tired,” he instructed him in that resonating voice. “You’re going to lie down here and go to sleep. When you wake up you won’t fret about your car. You left it at home, and you went for a walk. You want to walk home, but only after you’ve rested. And you are very, very weary.”

Like a child the man curled in a semicircle on the ground and rested his head on his arms. He was asleep instantly.

“We needed a car they weren’t looking for,” Bones said by way of explanation. I followed him to the new vehicle. When we were back on the highway, I turned to him.

“Show me the note.” Since we’d been riding on a motorcycle before, I hadn’t asked, fearing it would be lost in the hundred-plus-mile-per-hour wind from our speed.